Written by Holly Wilson, Yr 11 IB Student
Feet sliding against the wooden floors, music roaring throughout the small house, she moved ever so quickly.
A cackle could be heard from behind her and she spun to where the noise came from. Her lips turned up, a gleam in her eyes that he had loved all these years. “Où t’es, papaoutai, où t’es, papaoutai, où t’es, papaoutai, où t’es, où t’es où papaoutai!”
A small, pale hand was held out, waiting for his embrace, and of course, he had to take it. Giggling together as if they were teens, they danced as the sun shone through the windows, casting an orange hue on their bodies and the unusual pieces she had loved collecting over the years. He could recall their first days spent together so clearly, and their first kiss and he had remembered how he had fallen absolutely, totally and utterly, head-over-heels in love with the woman before him.
Soon he felt a thudding in his temples and it was as if the music had encased him, his eyebrows furrowing, lips turned down. The muscles in her face fell with his as he looked around. “What are we doing?”
“Tell me something?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. He only hummed in response, lifting his greying hairs to match her expression.
“What did you have for breakfast this morning?” There was a desperate plea to her voice, as if she were begging. His eyes flicked across the room, before clearing his throat and answering, “I haven’t eaten yet. It is only 8 o’clock after all.”
Her head dropped into her hands, sighing. As her digits rubbed at her eyes and ran back down her face to drop by her sides, she looked at him despairingly. “Wrong. I made you eggs this morning and it is nearly eleven am.” His face remained blank before he began to walk away.
“When was the last time we saw little Joe and Mary?” Body spinning to face him, she spoke louder. Again, the wretched look crept back to rest upon her face. “Please, just tell me?” Imploring would be the only way to describe her need to know, filled with an unimaginable emptiness as she could feel him slip away with the passing seconds.
He stopped and looked up at her with withering eyes. “I don’t believe we have seen them in quite some time. I’ll go and give Johnny a ring and see if he’d like us to take them off his hands for a while.” He spun on his heel and walked towards the kitchen before stopping and turning back. And for a desperate, fleeting moment, she believed that maybe, just maybe, he had remembered. “Actually, I think I’ll pop over there and pick up those tools he borrowed a while back. Have you seen my keys?”
A barely audible croak arose from her throat, “Check the fridge.” She watched as his back turned to her and finally stalked off, toward the kitchen. Her knees began to wither and give in, slumping to the floor. She heard the sound of triumph and an inaudible noise before the door struck shut. Her hand wrapped around the small teddy bear that lay upon the floor, thinking of little Joe and how upset he would be that he had left it there the previous day.
A scream ripped through her throat as she cradled the little being, whimpering and sputtering, tears spilling over the edges of her eyes. Alone, was she.
And there she sat, completely and utterly hopeless. Desolate, as the love of her life fell between her fingers in front of her very eyes.